User blog comment:Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring/Mossflower Country & Beyond/@comment-3474228-20111122221341/@comment-25220117-20111226205519

''The searat bolts backwards from the keel with a cry of surprise, stumbling over a crate as he tried to draw a dagger. His fellow searat was not so lucky. Being wounded through the stomach, he had fallen-Just to have the otter land on him, and sink the gull-feathered shaft deeper into his gut. He gave one last gurgle of pain, before going limp. The powder-toting searat jumped back up from where he had lain sprawled, grabbing a small round object from his belt-It was a rough, lumpy rock, a small rope sticking from the top of it. The searat grinned wickedly at the otter* "Girrup an' surrender, wavedog!"